


Temporary

by pippen2112



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: (explained in author's note), Anal Sex, Angst, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, Felix Being a Dick, Hallucination Felix, Locus Re-discovering Emotions, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Other, Past Lolix, Past Relationship(s), Post-Season/Series 13, RvB Rare Pair Week, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 18:55:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14624960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippen2112/pseuds/pippen2112
Summary: Heart thundering against his ribs, Locus forces a blank expression.  Carolina and Washington do not know him. No one knows him. Felix kept a few photos from when they were young and believed they could be the good guys, but all those mementos are gone now. He torched them his first stop after Chorus. There is nothing connecting a dark skinned man with deep scars to the armored menace who helped mastermind a genocide.But as Washington takes a glass of whiskey and a lurid pink concoction back to their booth, he can’t help angling his head and watching. Washington slides in beside Carolina. She offers him a weary smile as she takes the whiskey, and Washington settles his weight against her side, a small grin forming at the corner of his mouth as they prop each other up.  Their exhaustion reminds him to all the times he and Felix had to drag each other to safety. Sometimes, in those hazy moments between awake and asleep, he still feels Felix clinging to him, cold feet wedged between his calves as Felix drools on his chest.The pieces of his heart he thought died long ago hum and sputter and ache. Seeing Carolina and Washington reminds him of those time, the good times. Seeing them together makes him ache.





	Temporary

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is tagged Mildly Dubious Consent because Locus does not disclose his identity to Washington or Carolina. In the original ending, it was hinted at that Carolina suspected she knew who he was, but in this version it was never made clear.
> 
> Special thanks to Zalia for beta reading this to make sure the ending wasn't totally out of left field! You da best, Zalia!
> 
> (Also, if I missed any tags, please let me know! It's been a while since I last reread this story.)

Giving up his helmet hurt. More than he expected. He sold it for scraps at a junkyard moon at the edge of the galaxy, and before that his armor to a scavenger en route to a space station. He had saved the heavy artillery and his ship for the last leg of his journey. Though his ship was running on fumes when he pulled into the space port on Aurellion, a dingy border town not worth the terra-formed dirt under its foundations, he made enough for a ticket to a distant colony on the outside border of UNSC colonized space. Just him and the clothes on his back and an alien sword he had no use for but could not forsake.

He sold all that was left of him just to end up _here_ , slumped over a sticky bar, nursing a bottle of lukewarm beer, feeling naked for the first time in years. Really truly naked. He has a pistol holstered at his ankle if things go bad, and a pair of combat knives concealed on his person, but how much protection could they offer compared to years spent in armor? Very little. Especially now that reports from Chorus are plastered on every screen in the quadrant. Now that all his crimes have been laid bare.

“ _C’mon, bud. If you’re gonna play God’s perfect monster, you gotta look the part.”_

He can still hear Felix’s jeer as his partner pushed the then-new helmet into his hands, can still feel biting kisses against the nape of his neck and the hollow of his throat before Felix zipped up the brand-new under armor and clipped the last pieces of armor into place. He had felt it then, the doors sealing around his heart and mind, the choice to distance himself from this mission in whatever way he could. _“I’m not a monster,”_ he had insisted as he shouldered his sniper rifle. _“I’m a soldier.”_

Felix smirked before pulling on his own helmet. _“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”_

But Felix is dead, and with the helmet now moldering in a scrap heap, so is Locus.

An old Earth classic plays over the speakers. Patrons dance near the back of the bar, their movements hypnotic and certain. He scans the faces of the crowd. Inconspicuous, ordinary faces. And none of them waste a second glance on him. He hangs his head. Why would they? He’s not much to look at, and he took great pains to keep his face a secret, to keep his record as a mercenary spotless but for his accomplishments. No one would know this face; anyone who did is dead. It is for the best. Disappearing is easier when you’re already a ghost.

“ _Jesus, do you have to work at being this melodramatic, or does that shit just come naturally?”_

He shakes away the barb, but it leaves an unsavory taste in his mouth. Bitter like bile, coppery like blood. Was that the last taste Felix knew as he raced toward his fate face-first at terminal velocity? Possibly. And if he had done something different, his partner would still be alive. The notion makes his gut twists.

He reaches for his bottle, ready to choke down the swill and call it a night when the bar door swings open. He doesn’t turn toward the motion, but through the mirror behind the bar, he spies the newcomers. The pair of them are strong and scarred, a green eyed woman with a shocking red pixie cut, a man with more freckles on his face than stars in the sky and a shock of ash blonde fringe. They’re dressed in leather jackets and cargo pants, but he recognizes them from pictures taken years earlier from the files Control scavenged from the wreckage of Project Freelancer. Their broad shouldered stances. Their hardened eyes. Age and wear hangs on Agents Carolina and Washington, doing little to mask their identities.

They’ve found him. There’s no other reason for them to be on this weathered little rock of a planet. No reason but revenge for the lives he stole on Chorus. His stomach sinks, his palms sweating against the bar. He has to run. There is no alternative. He must run and pray they don’t give chase. His passage off Aurellion is scheduled for the early hours of the morning. He can cling to the shadows until then, can give the freelancers the slip.

But even as he makes his plans, he notices Carolina is favoring her right leg and Washington none too subtly hovering at her right hand side, watching her six as they make their way across the bar. Carolina drops heavily into a booth, her back pressed to the wall. Washington approaches the bar, murmurs an order to the bartender, and props his hip against the bar to survey the scene.

Ignoring Washington, he lets his shoulders hang loose, lets his own gaze travel the bar in an attempt to remain inconspicuous. But when the hair on the back of his neck stands on end, he looks forward and finds Washington’s eyes darting away, his cheeks coloring but his expression unchanged.

Heart thundering against his ribs, he forces a blank expression and stares down at his drink. Adrenaline pulses through him. They do not know him. He takes solace in that fact. No one knows him. Felix kept a few photos from when they were young and believed they could be the good guys, but all those mementos are gone now. He torched them his first stop after Chorus. There is no evidence left to find. Nothing connecting a dark skinned man with deep scars to the armored menace who helped mastermind a genocide.

He needs to go, but as Washington takes a glass of whiskey and a lurid pink concoction back to their booth, he can’t help angling his head and watching. Washington slides in beside Carolina. She offers him a weary smile as she takes the whiskey, and Washington settles his weight against her side, a small grin forming at the corner of his mouth as they prop each other up.

He should turn away—he knows better than to take this risk—but he is transfixed. Their exhaustion reminds him to all the times he and Felix had to drag each other to safety. He remembers many a night bedded down in off-world campsites and abandoned warehouses, nothing but each other to keep the cold away. Sometimes, in those hazy moments between awake and asleep, he still feels Felix clinging to him, cold feet wedged between his calves as Felix drools on his chest.

The pieces of his heart he thought died long ago hum and sputter and ache. Seeing Carolina and Washington reminds him of those time, the good times. Seeing them together makes him ache. He has to look away.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he drinks the last of his beer, his buzz long since forsaken. He’ll find no more comfort at the bottom of a bottle. His sins were bought when he forsook his own agency. Dulling his mind with booze will not absolve him. Not when his sins are at his heels.

He flags down the bartender, an older woman with graying curls and tattoos covering her arms. “You clocking out?”

“Early morning,” he offers by way of explanation as he pulls out his credits. He looks down at the crumpled bills and sighs before laying out the money. “Send another round to the pair in the corner.”

“Grumpy and the firecrotch?”

He grimaces at the colorful names but nods. “They look like they deserve a break.”

The bartender shrugs but pockets the funds just the same.

He weaves through the tables and patrons with minimal fuss. Outside, the night is heavy, a layer of sweat already beading on his neck. Still, he pulls his coat close around him like it will shelter him from his demons.

He just needs to make it to the cross street, to the alley where he can scale to the rooftops. He like heights, feels more comfortable with a vantage point where he can see all the pieces, the big picture, where he doesn’t have to hear the screams. Just the thought makes his skin crawl. He crosses his arms tighter over his chest, holding himself together. _Just get to cover. Get out of sight. Get somewhere safe before you lose it._

“Hey, big guy! Wait up.”

He freezes at the sharp call. He could pretend he didn’t hear; he’s at the edge of the bar’s parking lot, far enough to have not heard the sound. But, no, he’s already reacted. He can’t keep moving now. That will tell her something is wrong. He can’t be so obvious, can’t give himself away. He’s close to being out of this star system, the ticket to a border world colony burning in his pocket. He just needs to defuse the situation.

Too bad infiltration was always Felix’s strength.

He turns and finds Carolina crossing the parking lot, her gait carefully balanced to hide her injury. If he hadn’t seen the fight first hand, he wouldn’t know to look for the limp. Her eyes narrow slightly as she takes him in. “Is this your move? Send a drink and make them chase you?”

His face heats up. “Not at all. You and your friend looked tired. I did not think it was my place to intrude.”

She grins, cautious but nonetheless pleased by the answer. “Not too tired to be out. You should come back inside. Make this hole in the wall a little more bearable.”

He opens his mouth to deny her, but Carolina cuts him off. “We’d be _more_ than happy to share you.”

And his mouth snaps shut. That… that must be a coincidence. A fluke of speech. Even if the corner of her mouth curls into a wry grin and new energy brightens her eyes. He knows what he should do, what course of action he would advise. Politely decline and continue on his way. Let himself be forgotten. But the offer comes without conditions, her voice and expression nothing if not genuine.

“ _Don’t go kidding yourself, Locus. There’s always a catch.”_

He shivers at the hissed words. It’s foolish to even consider—the exact sort of behavior he would have berated Felix for stooping to—but without another second’s hesitation, he nods.

She grins and extends her hand. “Brandie, but everyone calls me Carolina.”

It’s an innocuous name, but the honesty takes the breath from his lungs. He takes her calloused palm in his and replies. “Sam.”

#

“So we make it to the Vegas quadrant, _finally_ , and York drags us to the first strip club off the port,” Washington says, his eyes bright and his words vibrating with repressed laughter. “And who do we find working the main stage?” He pauses as Carolina cackles into her drink. “Reggie with that stupid waxed up mustache of his, dancing around with a pair of strategically placed feather fans, _naked as the day he was born._ ” Washington starts laughing midway through his punchline, buckling sideways against Carolina. “I shit you not, York spent the last sixteen hours of our leave drinking himself into a coma trying to forget the sight.”

He laughs despite himself, his chest warm and tight. Washington is a good storyteller when he gives himself leave to talk, when the knot of tension between his shoulders finally eases. The words come easily to him, or easily enough. _Like someone else you used to know._ He shakes away the thought. Comparisons to Felix don’t belong here.

Washington grins into his fruity, sweet scented drink. Carolina had teased him for it earlier, but Washington merely cocked his head and savored a long sip, winking over the lip of his glass. His heart had fluttered, but he squashed the feeling. When he looks to the pair across from him, he thinks he sees them exchanging a strange look, something covert and heated.

“ _Always knew you were a perv, Locs. No wonder you love your sniper rifle so much. That scope’s got a hell of a zoom.”_

He glances away quickly. It’s not his place. The beer has left his belly and mind swirled, has made him lazy and slow. Around his enemies. But it doesn’t feel like a detente between enemy combatants. And Carolina and Washington can’t know his face, so what could that look mean?

“So, Sam,” Washington says casually, “you have somewhere important to be tonight?”

He lets his head drop. Clearly, he hasn’t been subtle each time he’s checked the clock over the bar. Less in control than he thought. Cheeks burning, he shakes his head. “Not tonight. But I have to make a departure in the morning.”

“Us too.” Carolina says softly, her eyes just a little glazed. Must be the drink mixing with the late hour and pre-existing exhaustion. He can’t imagine the last weeks have been restful for them. Especially if they’ve tracked him so far so quick.

Washington fidgets with the condensation damp napkin beneath his drink. Folds and unfolds the paper as he speaks. “Yeah, but that’s not for another ten hours. And, um, you look like you could… I mean, we could…” His cheeks turn a pleasing shade of pink, causing his freckles to stand out. “I mean—”

“—Sam,” Carolina says curtly, cutting off the man still half slumped against her. “What he means to say is, would you like to come back to our room with us?”

He can’t stop his eyes from widening. _What?_

Carolina grins a little at his reaction and goes on. “It’s near the port, the bed’s soft, and Wash hasn’t had a cock in a shamefully long time.”

“Lina!” Washington shrieks, his blush darkening as he elbows her. But open want and hope shines in those bright blue eyes when Washington turns back to him. “She’s… well, she’s not wrong.”

His chest constricts, making each breath feel vapor thin. _This is foolishness,_ he tells himself. Just sitting here and sharing a drink with them is folly enough, but going to bed with them? That is just asking for trouble. And yes, he is skilled under pressure, but he’s not like Felix. He can’t compartmentalize, not socially, not when saying the wrong thing could mean disaster. He should politely decline and head to the transit port to wait for his shuttle. But their easy candor, their willingness to welcome in a stranger, just watching them lights a fire in his chest, one he believed burned out long ago.

Before he can give voice to his reservations, Carolina reaches across the table and takes his hand. Her palm is calloused and cool, her grip firm and grounding as her thumb works circles across the back of his hand. “You look like you could use a little comfort, too.”

He looks into her wide green eyes and briefly wonders what all she can see, what truths she’s made out that he never intended to let slip. But there’s so little judgment to be found it loosens the tension coiling in his chest. One chance. One night. What harm could it do?

Swallowing down all his reservations, he nods. “Lead the way.”

#

Carolina and Washington’s motel is a cheap conglomeration of prefab rooms cobbled together. En route to the second floor balcony, Carolina takes point, flipping an old fashioned keycard between her hands. He and Washington follow a half step back, Washington slumped against him with an arm wrapped around his waist, his fingers tracing up and down his side, teasing at his waistband. He doesn’t have it in him to ask Washington to stop.

As soon as Carolina unlocks the room and they all stumble in, he braces for the tables to turn. For Washington to push him to the ground so they can cuff his wrists, for Carolina to aim her magnum at his head—he spotted it holstered under her jacket sometime between his third and fourth beer. He is prepared.

And yes, Washington pushes him as soon as the door seals behind them, but it’s up against the nearest wall, one hand sinking into his hair to pull him down for a kiss. An impassioned, urgent kiss, the kind of thing he never would have imagined when he first spotted a soldier in powder blue and yellow armor shrieking at his team at Crash Site Bravo. He’s so caught off guard, all he can do is open his mouth and try to stay out of Washington’s way.

Of course, not five seconds later, Carolina chuckles from across the room. “Somebody’s eager.”

He feels Washington rucking up his shirt, fingers quick and cold against his skin. He sucks in a breath as Washington side-eyes Carolina, already hyper aware of each pass of Washington’s hands on his chest, slowly soaking up his heat. Those hands trail up to his shoulders, pushing his shirt over his head and coming face to face with the bandage on his left shoulder.

Washington’s gaze turns sharp, his thumb trailing along the bandage. “What happened here?”

His throat constricts, his heart pounding in his ears. He swallows, his hands fisted at his sides to keep himself in check. Just one answer, one little lie, and he can have comfort, even if it’s only the temporary kind. “A fight. My partner and I were faced with formidable opponents.”

Mouth pinched, Washington leans forward and presses his lips to the borders of the bandage. He goes boneless at those sweet kisses. From behind them, Carolina says, “I take it you won.”

“No,” he grits out, lost in the sensation and struggling with the truth. “But I am alive, so I consider myself lucky.”

“ _Yeah, you’re one to talk.”_

He shivers, but maybe that’s Washington licking up to his neck while reaching for his fly. His pulse quickens.

“Come on, Wash,” Carolina says, her voice suddenly so much closer. He blinks and finds Carolina pulling aside Washington’s collar to nibble at his shoulder. Strange, she leaves Washington’s neck alone even though it is bared. He must not like that. But then Carolina takes his hands and pulls them to brace against Washington’s hips. “There’s a bed, remember?”

At the reminder, he pushes away from the wall and uses some of his mass to muscle Washington along with him. As soon as they’re moving, Carolina pulls them along, leaving Washington to have his way with him. In only a few stumbling steps, Washington buckles as the back of his knees hit the bed, letting out an undignified squawk as they tumble onto the bed.

He hears a quiet laugh behind him, and then Carolina pushes him to his knees and elbows, so he’s crouching over Washington. So close, he can see flecks of brown in Washington’s otherwise pristine eyes, can feel the heat coming off his cheeks. Distantly, he hears Carolina comment “Keep him busy for me,” followed by water running in the other room, but all he can think of is Washington underneath him, warm and waiting.

And when Washington smirks up at him before a hand worms between them and works open his pants, he has to hold very still because he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he blinks awake and finds this has all been a dream. Instead, he drops low and rolls his hips into Washington’s grip while nibbling at his collarbones. He closes his eyes and breathes in Washington’s scent and lets himself feel.

But then there are teeth at the nape of his neck, and damp flesh against his back, and warm hands sweeping up his sides. Carolina. He shudders, but he doesn’t know if that is because of the bite or because Washington is wrapping a hand around his half-hard dick.

All too quickly, Carolina pulls back until only a single hand remains between his shoulder blades. And Washington’s brow creases, his hands stilling but not quite falling away. Washington looks to the side, his eyes going wide and his throat bobbing. “Jesus, Lina, when did you get naked?”

“I thought I’d clean up.”

He follows Washington’s gaze, and there’s Carolina, all her strength and scars laid bare, but it’s the cautious tint to her eyes that gives him pause. Him and Washington both. She leans closer, her hand coming around to squeeze his shoulder, distanced but still reassuring. “You tensed up. Is biting a no-go?”

He goes still as his addled brain struggles to catch up, but the question still puzzles him. Felix never would have asked such a thing. Felix could always read his reactions, sometimes better than he could himself. And even then, he could never predict what Felix would do, when he would pounce with some newfound means of torment. But that’s how partners are. They know each other inside and out. They embrace the worst in each other, no matter what.

“ _Yeah, or, y’know, your partner leaves you to be killed by some goddamn idiots. But you don’t know anything about that, do you, Locus?”_

“Sam?”

Washington’s voice coaxes him back to the present. He looks between the freelancers, feeling something strange in his chest, something that threatens to strangle him if he makes the wrong move. But he has to answer, has to say something.

“I’m alright,” he grits out, the words finally loosening his chest and letting him breathe. “Just a bad memory.”

Carolina gives him an understanding grin and cups his cheek. She swoops in quickly and kisses him, but where Washington’s kisses are needy as a spoiled lapdog, Carolina radiates a calm control he used to strive for and found only a fraction of the time. “No more biting, got it.” She smiles at him and tugs him to follow her up the bed. “Come on, let’s get you ready so Wash can do his thing.”

Before he can wrap his brain around her words, Carolina pushes him into position against the headboard, his legs splayed and his cock standing at attention. Washington makes a soft sound of want as he strips to his underwear and clambers onto the bed.

Watching Washington kiss up his thighs en route to his groin makes his breath sputter in his chest. It feels like time slows in the seconds between Washington nuzzling at his inner thigh and finally licking a long stripe up his cock. He gasps raggedly. For a split second, Washington laves his head before looking up at him, winking, and swallowing him to the root.

He sinks his hips into the bed to stop himself from bucking wildly, but he wants to. Oh, he wants to weave his fingers through Washington’s hair and hold on tight as Washington plays him like a fiddle. Instead, he fists his hands in the bedsheets beneath him, gasps and moans eking unbidden from his throat.

There’s a heady groan from his side. “Told you it’s been a while.”

He looks at Carolina, struggling for a retort which dies on his lips. Because Carolina, the Freelancer Supreme, has her knees spread wide as she thumbs at her clit, her other hand braced behind her. His mouth goes dry just watching her move. Her pupils are dilated, and her cheeks are flushed, and her hips roll slow and lazy as she works two fingers into her cunt. His chest tightens from more than just Washington moaning around him. Unrepentant in her pleasure, Carolina is beautiful.

“See something you like?” she asks, her voice surprisingly even.

Before he can answer, Washington keens.

Carolina chuckles. “You should pull his hair, Sam. He likes that.”

Nodding slowly, he cups the back of Washington’s head, his hair surprisingly coarse against his palm. Washington sucks hard before sinking down on him, tongue poking out to lap at his balls. Unconsciously, his hand curls in Washington’s hair, and Washington groans around him. His head thumps back against the headboard, his mouth open in a voiceless shout.

“Tell him how he feels.”

When Washington’s throat spasms, he has to pull him off. His hips ache from restraining himself, but he doesn’t want to cause Washington pain. Taking a deep breath, he forces himself to speak. “Warm. And tight.”

Carolina hums. “Go on.”

Dirty talk has never been his forte, but he tries. “Every time he drops onto me, he lets out a, _ah_ ,” he gasps when Washington demonstrates, “a contented groan. Like he never wants to let go.” Washington groans around him and sucks hard, emphasizing the point.

His head lolls to the side, biting his lip as he struggles to contain himself. His words in no way convey his desire. He wants to hold on as long as Washington will have him, so Washington can suckle to his hearts content, but it’s too much for him, the unyielding suction, the glimpses he gets of Washington’s blue eyes gazing up at him.

He looks to Carolina, praying she might see his turmoil and show him mercy. But she’s perched on her knees, her back arched against the headboard, her spine arched into a perfect bow as her hands work in conjunction. With her right hand, she plunges three fingers into her cunt while her heel grinds against her clit, and with her left, she thrusts two fingers into her ass. His heart nearly stops at the wanton display, but Carolina just meets his slack-jawed expression and smirks. “Wash is good with his mouth. You should see how he eats an ass.”

The callous control of her words tears through him. Before he can stop himself, he bucks up into Washington’s mouth, clinging to his hair like it will keep him tethered to the present. Washington whines, grinding against the bed. Washington’s fingers dig into his hips, holding him still so Wash can fuck his mouth down onto him, broken noises slipping out at odd intervals.

Sucking in breaths hard and fast, he pulls Washington off him. Wash pouts up at him, instinctively ducking his head back toward the dick. “Wait,” he says as soon as he can summon his voice. “I will not last at this rate.”

When Washington whimpers at the loss, Carolina rights herself and leans down to cup his cheek with her right hand, her thumb swiping achingly close to his lips. “You hear that, Wash. Any more, and you’ll make him blow early. We don’t want this to be over too soon, do we?”

Shivering, Washington turns his face to lick her thumb and kiss her palm. With a heavy sigh, he shakes his head. “Not yet.”

Carolina grins. “Good.”

Before he can unriddle her grin, Carolina is upon them. She shoos Washington out from between his legs, then pulls him down the bed until his head hits the pillows. It’s easy to forget she’s stronger than she looks. With a wicked gleam in her eye, she straddles him and carefully eases herself down onto him.

He sucks in a sharp breath at the searing clench of her cunt, the visceral pulse and relax as she works her way onto him, moaning with every inch. “Fuck,” she mutters under her breath, looking him square in the eye, “you look big, and you feel bigger.”

“Jesus Christ, Lina.” Washington groans as he kicks off his underwear and knee-walks up behind her, his hands wrapping around her hips.

As Washington kisses her neck, she shivers and clenches around him. He bucks off the bed at the sensation. He hasn’t slept with a woman in a very long time. Hasn’t felt the desire to pursue anyone beyond his partnership with Felix. On Chorus, it would have jeopardized the mission, and before, well, even at his worst, Felix understood him. And understanding goes a long way.

He spreads his work-worn hands over Carolina’s knees, raking his nails along her thighs until he reaches her groin, his thumb carefully revolving around her. She shivers, her hips working in slow, strong circles. Washington watches over her shoulder, transfixed. At the sight of Washington’s blown pupils and raw red lips, he gulps around too many confusing emotions, but nevertheless, he presses his thumb to her clit, matching the same slow circle of her hips, following her lead even as her eyelids flutter and her pace stutters.

Washington whimpers against her throat, probably grinding against Carolina’s ass given the sudden rocking of the bed. His hands wander up to Carolina’s breasts, palming them twice before pinching her nipples. Carolina moans, leaning her head to the side to afford Washington more room to work. But as Washington works up a rhythm, she slows her grinding and asks, “You gonna keep humping away back there, or are you gonna do something useful with your cock?”

Washington stills, his eyes widening. “You want us both…” he trails off, his voice going thin and high, “ _at the same time._ ”

She half turns to plant a kiss on his gaping mouth. “Yes, Wash. At the same time.” But when Washington starts to pull his hands away, she snaps. “No, keep your hands where they are. Sam.” He looks up at her, praying his eyes don’t betray how lost he became watching them move together. “Would you mind giving him a hand? Lube’s on your left.”

Exhaling, he leaves her clit and reaches for the open bottle on the nightstand. He slathers his fingers, props himself up on his other arm, and feels around the curve of her ass. Her hole is still damp from residual slick, but he wastes no time working his fingers in, opening Carolina up smooth and slow. In no time, she clenches around him and bats his arm away. “I’m good. Slick him.”

His brow furrows. He only has two fingers worked into her, not terribly deeply given the angle, and even if Washington is below average, penetration will hurt. When he doesn’t immediately continue, Carolina goes on, her cheeks turning pink. “I like the sting. And even when he’s eager, Wash is careful.”

He’s not sure he believes it, not by a long shot, but there are more variables to this situation than he knows. He doesn’t know their limits, their relationship. And if Carolina trusts Washington to be careful, he will too.

He pulls his fingers out of her, adding more lube before he strokes Washington’s cock, coating every inch of him. Washington sucks in a breath through his teeth, almost like he’s in pain, but a moment later, he bucks back into his grip. He can’t help the grin pulling at his cheeks. He never would have guessed, but eager looks as good on Washington as composure does on Carolina.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

Washington nods, sinking his hips and pressing against Carolina. Even though he doesn’t have an eye on the proceedings, he guides Washington to her ass, lines up his head with her hole, and watches the bliss cross Washington’s face as he sinks into her. Slow and careful, just like Carolina said.

Before he can comprehend it, he feels pressure against Carolina’s walls and Washington’s balls settling against his own. Carolina squeezes tight around him, and his chest constrict as he looks between the pair of them. Washington clinging to Carolina like she’s the last rock left in the storm. Carolina’s head tipped back and her mouth open as she bobs gently on and off the pair of them, relishing every stretch.

And then they start moving in earnest.

It’s more than he can comprehend, more than he can bear to witness, but he can’t tear his eyes away. These two striking people, rocking together to meet each other’s thrusts. Washington kissing Carolina’s neck like she’s the most precious person he’s ever beheld. Carolina reaching back with one hand to thread her fingers through Washington’s blonde locks, her other hand dropping to the bedsheets to grapple for his own and squeeze tight. These warriors who have come through hell together and won, time after time. And they chose to share this moment with him.

A possessive growl resonates in his chest, but he cuts it off before it can greet the air. Instead, he thrusts up into Carolina’s heat, hooks his heel around Washington, and urges him on. He holds back his orgasm as long as he can, drinking in the beauty unfolded before him, but he cannot keep his emotions in check for long.

Just before he reaches the edge, Washington’s hips stutter and he lets out a low grunt. Washington drops his forehead onto Carolina’s shoulder before shuffling backward. The pressure against Carolina’s posterior wall lessens, and he feels something warm and wet against his balls. Washington’s come leaking out of her. He can’t stop his moan or how he thrusts into her rough enough to make her groan. Carolina rides him hard and fast, and he has to squeeze his eyes closed and hold tight just to enjoy the ride. But as she clenches around him, warm hand turn his face to the side and lazy lips meet his. Washington. He can taste himself on Washington’s tongue and can’t resist licking into him.

“Fuck,” Carolina curses, bracing against his chest as she slams down onto him. “You ready, Sam?”

He nods, torn between grabbing her hips, flipping their positions, and fucking her to her peak, or cupping Washington’s cheek and letting himself be devoured. He can’t decide so he lifts his hips to meet Carolina’s thrusts and holds tight to Washington and tries to remember to breath when Carolina cums around him. Her cunt pulses, and the clench drags him over the edge.

They collapse into a pile, not even bothering to wipe the slick from their bodies. He feels their cum on him, sinking into his skin, warming something inside him. He should leave now that they’ve gotten what they wanted; instead, he lets Carolina pull him to rest his head against her breast, lets Washington curl against his back, lets himself rest. For the better part of an hour, he dozes between them, warm and wanted, but it will not last. Sooner than he would like, he will have to dress and leave and forget about this moment. He can’t stay, no matter how at home he feels between them.

But for the first time since he left Chorus, the voice is his guilt is silent and the road ahead seems less perilous. For that alone, he is grateful.

There’s a world ahead of him. An entire universe of possibilities for him to do better by humanity. This is the land of the living, and he will not remain shackled to the dead. Not another moment longer.

He squeezes his tear-filled eyes shut and sucks in a deep breath. _Goodbye, my love._

“Sam?” Washington shifts against him, his voice rough. “You okay?”

He nods as Carolina pulls her arms tighter around him. “I will be.”

And for the first time, Sam believes he truly will.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and concrit are welcome! Come scream with me on Tumblr (birdsbeesandlemonadetrees.tumblr.com)


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